Tuesday, September 29, 2009

I saw this over on Blanaid's blog and just had to yoink and repost it. This, ladies and gentlemen is the most gorgeous, amazing, supersweet and damn clever wedding invitation I have ever seen. I'm not quite sure what the hell is going on with me today, but I actually teared up a little at the end. Behold. (Clicky to enlarge, because for some reason it won't just be all big here.)

> Got demented drunk on Arthur's Day, my new favourite pretend occasion. T Cup and I managed to procure tickets to the South William to see David Kitt sing songs in a corner and I tried to give the illusion that I wasn't totally excited that Glen Hansard was drinking right next to us outside Grogans for the remainder of the night.

Hi Glen! No, over here Glen! Gleeennnn!

> Woke up the next morning with an enormous mystery bruise on my elbow of all places and not the faintest idea how it got there.

> Attended the outdoor screening of Nosferatu in Dartmouth Square on Friday night, a live band were playing the music for the film but I couldn't see the Engrish subtitles of the German intertitles what with all the heads in the way. Also, the two reincarnated meerkats in front of me didn't exactly help matters, springing up as they did every twenty seconds to read said subtitles and block my view in the process. If they were real meerkats it probably would have been all cute and endearing but in real life it was just a blonde bird getting in my damn way everytime. The film was quite good and still rather spooky, what with the mad scary head on him and all.

> Managed to soak my phone in cheap French rum (damn you Tico Tico Rhum Brun!) on the way to an outdoor Dead Flags gig in Ranelagh Gardens on Saturday. It's still a bit hungover and threw quite a few tantrums but I *think* it's almost back to normal now. Phew.

> Came 32nd in the Ray Darcy Show All Ireland Table Quiz last night with Team Dreamy Sleepy Nighty Snoozy Snooze (consisting of mise, T Cup, Miss Dizzle and Mazatron). Met lovely Lottie, ate lots of free wine gums and learned that Frankfort is in fact the state capital of Kentucky.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Well so far today I've sent my portfolio, CV and letter about how great I am to about ten design companies, had a scrap with the hoover (don't let Henry's seemingly friendly smile fool you, he's actually an uncooperative asshole) and nearly fell backwards down the stairs while trying to hoover it. It's official. Housework is hazardous to my health. Since I'm clearly in such a productive mood today, I'm actually going to post about another deadly bird from history, the third in my much neglected series of sorts.

This time, it's Kiki de Montparnasse. Which, apart from being the sexy, fun embodiment of doing whatever the flip you like in 1920s Paris, is also the name of a rather saucy knickers and things-to-have-sex-in website that temporarily distracted me from my Googling. They also have the most bloody expensive french maid's outfit I've ever come across. (Oh there's certainly a filthy joke in there somewhere.)

But back to Kiki. She was born as Alice Ernestine Prin, surely a name that just screams "NO CRAIC AT ALL!" and moved to Paris aged twelve to find work, which she did in bakeries and shops and the like. By the time she was fourteen though, the little minx was posing nude for sculptors and soon became Kiki, a regular of the Montparnasse social scene, entertaining nightclub crowds by singing dirty songs and wearing black garters. Pretty soon she was a very popular artist's model across Paris and friends with the likes of Ernest Hemingway, very good friends with Man Ray, who made hundreds of portraits of her and she appeared in nine short experimental films. One of Man Ray's most iconic images, Le Violin d'Ingres is actually of her.

Kiki was also a painter and had a sold out exhibition in a Paris gallery, wrote her autobiography at the age of 28, with Hemingway providing the introduction, a year later it was translated and published in America, immediately banned by the squares in the US Government and remained so up to the late seventies. She was called the Queen of Montparnasse and was renowned for being mighty craic and happily optimistic, even if things went a bit shite, as she famously said "all I need is an onion, a bit of bread, and a bottle of red and I will always find somebody to offer me that." With her signature flapper girl bob and fun personality she became a symbol for the carefree, bohemian, outspoken and creative attitude of Paris in the 20s and owned her own cabaret in Montparnasse in the 1930s. In 1989, the biographers Billy Klüver and Julie Martin called her "one of the century's first truly independent women."

However, when the bastard Nazis occupied Paris in 1940, she hightailed it out of there and only returned when she sadly died, aged fifty one, to be buried in Montparnasse where her tomb reads "Kiki, 1901-1953, singer, actress, painter, Queen of Montparnasse."

Monday, September 21, 2009

So I'm back from France and back to real life, which of late unfortunately consists of not being sure what day of the week it is, apart from Wednesday Day which means it's off to the Post Office to collect my magnificent sum of 204 euro and something cents for another seven days, lamenting the disappearance of Murder She Wrote from RTE One's daily listings as poor old intrepid Jess has been elbowed out of the way by the Afternoon Show harpies and looking up the job listings on Creative Ireland.

Why Jessica, why?

It was a great old week though, with an insane amount of cheese eaten by all. The wedding was all relaxed and lovely, the priest looked like Steven Spielberg, I (embarrassingly) started crying after my first ever slow dance, The Dress was admired by many and my bag (which was also charity shop-bought, get me!) was LOVED by the assorted aunties. There was also a ridiculous amount of drinking done, an 8k kayaking trip down the river Dronne which I miraculously survived, REALLY cute pigs on the farm our little house was on, the invention of Extreme Ball (you need a swimming pool, a ball and no qualms about dunking people underwater should they be in your way) and many many games of Villagers vs Mafia (if you know this game, you'll know it's difficult to explain but frighteningly good fun to play - we had played it for four hours straight one night without even realising).

I still have to unpack though. I hate unpacking. Maybe first I'll send this tshirt to Montrose marked for the attention of Seoige Junior and Sheana Keane.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Friday, September 11, 2009

I'm off to France tomorrow with the Bear for a week and not a thing packed as yet. All I know for certain thus far is that The Dress is coming (along with the underskirt that SuperMam kindly fashioned for me with her trusty sewing machine. Hooray!). We're heading to his friends wedding in Montagrier, which is two hours from Bordeaux, about three from La Rochelle and approximately in the middle of nowhere. If one was to Google the area, you would get this:

Hilltop village? Nice! Old church? Charmant! Fantastic viewpoints? Lovely! A bar/restaurant? Just the one then...?

Tuesday, September 08, 2009

- Shouting "He's behind you!" at an unsuspecting onscreen Linsday Lohan during I Know Who Killed Me in the Cinema Tent. Which, by the way is the most awesome terrible movie I've ever seen, it's destined for cult status and should be screened like a panto with designated crowd actions, à la Rocky Horror. The Bear decided it was the second worst Lindsay Lohan movie he's seen, in which she plays a twin of herself.

- A can of cider and muffins for breakfast? Don't mind if I do!

- The Bear taking part in a sack race in the Village Green, and managing to wangle himself a yellow 3rd place rosette, even though he ended up getting a face full of Stradbally mud in the process.

- Bopping my face off in the Crawdaddy tent to the amazing Miss Imelda May while drinking Southern Comfort and apple juice with ginger beer, which incidentally is tasty as fuck.

- Catching a bit of Jape, more so to see the guy in the band who apparently looks EXACTLY like the Bear. He really does, as it happens.

- Spotting Aisling O'Loughlin off Xposé, who then put on a hat and sunglasses after she caught me looking at her. One pint of get over yourself, please.

- Being told by a random guy called Dave (I think) that I reminded him of Florence, she of the Machine, although that was undoubtedly more to do with the fact that I have a fringe and was wearing a glowstick headband and sparkly things on my face at the time. And he may not have been entirely sober.

- Frolicking through the lovely forest to find Tucan playing on the Salty Dog shipwreck stage.

- Realising that 2 Many DJs are in fact AWESOME-O.

- Being delighted with myself for choosing a chicken pie with mash and gravy from PieMinister because if food could taste like a hug, I believe this would be it.

- The Sugarhill Gang playing Billie Jean as a Jacko tribute and saving Rapper's Delight to the end, amazing!

- Being jealous of kids who managed to get a hold of the giant yellow balloons from the Flaming Lips set. Which was fantastic, trippy and superfun.

So...back to real life then. HA! I think not, eloping as I am to France for a week on Saturday with the Bear to attend his friends wedding. Hooray! Suck on that, reality!

Thursday, September 03, 2009

Ooh, it's getting closer closer and it's almost time for the three days of guaranteed deadly craic in a tent in a field that is the splendiferous Electric Picnic! I've (finally) gotten last year's Stradbally mud off my sparkly blue wellies, (kind of) decided what to wear for each day, seeing as I've been trying to decode possible outfits from this mess of colouredy stuff (and am changing my mind as I'm looking at it even now):

Every year it's the same thing though, on the first day I'll want to look really cool and deadly etc but by the time Saturday and Sunday roll around, I'll be decidedly subscribing to the school of not giving a shite anymore and just being glad I'm dry (please, PLEASE in the name of The Sugarhill Gang let it be sunny and dry and lovely this weekend). So I'll undoubtedly end up looking somewhat less Dita Von Teese at Coachella and rather more Edith Bowman at Glastonbury.

But that's alright too, as I've got my blue, red and purple pairs of tights at the ready, not to mention GLOW STICKS (hooray!), my Bear to play with, a morbid sense of curoisty as the Cinema Tent is showing Lindsay Lohan's masterpiece "I Know Who Killed Me", an urge to get my face painted, and a proper tent this time around! (Last year I foolishly decided that the €7 one man tents in Dunnes were a bargain not to be ignored and will never NEVER forget the misery of waking up on the Monday morning last year with wet hair and a runny nose. Sexy.)

Right, I'm off to pour 70cl of Captain Morgan's in to an empty Coke bottle and scavenge for the final items on my List Of Stuff To Get, namely bubbles, batteries and maybe a glitter pen of some sort...

Wednesday, September 02, 2009

So last week we attended our first beauty awards. Hosted by Prudence Magazine and was held in the Radison Blu hotel near Upper Stephens St. (or is it actually ON Upper Stephens st. looks a bit out of place if you ask me in the middle of all the flahss) Anyhu i digress, myself and kitty tottered up in our red heels and gold sparkle shoes (the shoes aren't pictured which were the statement piece in the whole outfit, sssake) for the free wine and the free goodie bags! We brought our friends ms dizzle and mazatron with us, as our plus ones and had a good auld laugh as well, at the thought of life sized beauty products accepting their awards and thanking god and their mammy! The Style there was fab loved the red and black poka dot dress on Alexia, Prudence’s fashion editor.

this was my attempt at style!

The goody bags it would seem were all slightly diff, the girls got a few 'yes to carrots' sachets of delight and some nail varnish, whereas I got a night cream with nanotechnology in it(?), I cant pronounce or spell its name, it goes something like this 'zianlxyz...' anyway what ever it is I'm liking it so far!

Well after several glasses of free wine later and a few (i say a few, i had no dinner so i pretty much had all of the spring rolls that were on our table) and a lovely chat with hermione about our shared love of bruce we tottered off again into the night to 'Anseo' and started on the pints! Think we had a wee row about the cleaning in the house I have a vague memory of saying "well if ye'd prefer to sit in a pig sty!" watched that bbc three programme with the werewolf the vampire and the ghost, and then fell into the leaba into a drunken slumber!

Tuesday, September 01, 2009

...belongs to this guy, the Bear's French buddy from Sligo. I decided that he needs to write a book, beacuse anybody who can start a story with the sentence "So when I was little I used to go out to Australia to see my Dad, because he was working in a diamond mine at the time..." just should.

But back to the jumper. Although it's technically a cardigan, and it warmed the bejaysus out of me while sitting outside The Strand bar drinking cider in Sligo last weekend. This was after our second attempt at entry you see, since the first time around I was caught with a can of Bulmers in my bag and sent on my way. I believe he's attending Electric Picnic too and as such I'm hatching a plan to make it mine.

Anyway, the Warriors Run had been on that day, so earlier on we had been cheering the Queen Maeve-bothering runners (well, I'm not sure I'd appreciate 800 people stomping around MY burial cairn) across the finish line. That night Strandhill was a freezing cold craic-fest of people, bumper cars, bright lights and carnie folk. And there were FIREWORKS! Who doesn't love fireworks? I certainly love them even though one nearly set my hair on fire one New Year's Eve quite some time ago.

Fun times! But on reflection I was definitely drunker than I thought since..(oh the shame) when the Bear and I got back to his house, I once again got sucked into watching that infernal puzzle bastard show PlayTV, and the answer was so plainly obvious this time that I...em...rang in. I know. But I hung up in fury straight away when I got automated questions about whether India was in Africa or not. Fuck you JG Murphy. Fuck you.